Page 31 of Ends of Being

He sighs, “Yes, Antoinette. I want to fuck you within an inch of your life, and then I want to nurse you back to health just so I can fuck you to death again.”

I laugh. “Oh, how romantic. You want to fuck me to death.”

He chuckles, shrugging as he replies, “I never pretended to be romantic, but I suppose it depends on what your personal idea of romance is.”

“I wouldn’t really know. I don’t think I have ever been romanced.”

He squeezes me, jostling me around a bit as he says, “Maybe you were romanced, but you missed it because their romance and your romance were just too different.”

I ponder this theory, unable to tell if it’s accurate or not since I’m uncertain what would feel romantic to me. I don’t give a shit about flowers and chocolates and jewelry, and since I’ve been taking care of myself for quite a long time now, I can’t imagine what kind of romantic gesture would even get my attention.

I pull back to look at his face, then ask, “Would you let me tie you up?”

I have no idea why I ask or where it came from, but there it is, out in the universe.

“Is that what you want?” he murmurs, his face giving nothing away as he waits for me to respond.

I don’t know what’s holding me back, but for some reason, the idea of freely giving and taking with anyone sends me into a panic. So, if he isn’t going to tie me up and use me, and I don’t feel like I can handle the pressure of being free with him, that leaves two options—either he gets tied up, or we cool it.

And there’s no fucking way we’re cooling it since it has been weeks of build-up now, and fuck if I know when his next appearance will be, so it really is now or never.

I nod. “Yes, I think I would if you’re okay with it.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just stares into my eyes as if he’s searching for something. Finally, he says, “The trunk at the end of the bed. Take your pick.” He releases me, then lays back, stretching his long body out to get comfortable as I move off the bed and locate the trunk, taking a peek inside.

Take my pick, indeed.

The trunk is filled with all sorts of ropes and leather straps, gags, and toys. I give him an incredulous look. “What the fuck, Clark?”

He glares at me. “Don’t start that Clark shit, Antoinette, or I’ll beat your ass black and blue and then edge you for a fucking month.”

My eyes widen, and I gasp in horror. “You can’t edge me for a month!”

He simply smirks at me. “Try me.”

Well, this is going pear-shaped real quick.

I frown at him, squinting as I relent and try again, “Looks like you have a regular party in this trunk. Have orgies often?”

He clicks his tongue impatiently, prowling off the bed and crowding me against the trunk. He bends over me, bringing his lips close to my ear and whispering, “Jealous?”

I mean, yes, a little, but I scoff, “Of course not, Dare. I just hope you properly sanitize all this shit in between skin soirees.”

I groan inwardly as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I have no idea why I can’t control myself with him. Why can’t I just be nice and flexible and attempt to act like a sane, rational woman? Because deep down, I truly am a sane, rational woman, but with Dare, I’m a complete fucking lunatic, and I can’t make myself shut the fuck up.

He reaches behind me, grabbing an object from the pile in the trunk before slamming the lid shut with a loud crack. I flinch, closing my eyes as I feel him press against me, and the next thing I know, I’m momentarily airborne as he tosses me back onto the bed.

I barely have a moment to catch my breath before his body is covering mine, his weight pushing me into the mattress, and I’m torn between wrapping myself around him and fighting him off. I push at his shoulders halfheartedly, giving him a shove, but then his hands are gripping my wrists almost painfully, and my hands are pulled up over my head.

“Let me be very clear with you, Antoinette,” he says gruffly, his breath hot on the side of my face. “This bedroom you’re staying in…this is my bedroom. And that trunk of goodies at the end of my bed is for you and only you. I’ve never had a woman in this house, never mind in my bedroom, and the only skin soirees I’ll be having in this room or anywhere will be with you.” He licks a line down my cheek to my neck and then up to my ear, where he says softly, “Got it, baby girl?”

I can’t stop the shiver that runs through me, and I gasp, “Yes.”

He laughs, the dark vibrations on my skin sending another shiver through me as he asks, “Who is it you’re saying yes to, minx?”

I swallow, knowing this is a huge test, and any satisfaction I might get tonight is dependent on how I respond at this very moment. I want to fuck with him in the worst way, but I know it would be a mistake, and I’m trying to not make any more of those with Dare.

So, I drag in a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut as I turn my head until my face is pressed into his neck and choke out, “I got it…Darius.”

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